Page 17 of Rolling with my Professors

But I need to set this straight. I face her. “Why didn’t you come out when I asked?”

They laugh. It feels like an inside joke. It grates on me.

They start to talk at the same time, and then both stop and laugh again, leaving me just as clueless and irritated. Rutherford rubs a hand over his jaw then motions for her to continue.

“You didn’t say that I could either march my ass out the back door, or Daddy would throw me over his shoulder and spank my…”

Rutherford smirks. “You can say it.”

I’m too astounded, and curious to hear what else he said, to cut in.

Mila bites her lower lip then says, “Spank my juicy little peach in front of everyone.”

I bust out laughing. She’s laughing. Everything feels right. It overtakes my irritation. That’s the difference between Rutherford and me. His creative disregard for common decency gets shit done.

Mila adds lightheartedly, “Your lecture paid off. Given the risk that he would actually make good on his word, I chose talking over spanking… at least for now.”

Rutherford shrugs. “I might still spank you, just not in front of everyone.”

Mila’s eyes sparkle, her smile grows, and I’m getting one hell of a lesson in knowing when not to be the good guy.

“You don’t believe me?” Rutherford’s hand is reaching behind Mila and the sharp sound of a spanking rings through the air.

She squeals. Note to self: She doesn’t object. She’s fucking eating this up. Would she react the same if I did it?

She may already be pregnant, and we’ll have to figure out the relationship thing anyway. I’m ready to push the boundaries that I normally rely on for structure, but first I have to say my piece.

Edging between the two of them so I can be her focus, I take her hands. I savor the extra contact so I can feel her reaction to what I’m about to say. “Mila, I’m going to make this really clear.”

She cuts me off. “Wait. I’m sorry I avoided you, but it helped me see what I really wanted.”

“It’s fine. And if you’re pregnant, I’ll take care of you and the baby.”

Her fingers tighten. “Thanks.”

“Dude, nice gesture, but you’re killin’ the mood.” Rutherford can be such an ass.

I go for more. “Can we pick up where we left off?”

Her brow furrows. Rutherford clears his throat then says, “That’s not very clear. Tell her what you want.”

Fucking hell. I back Mila to the brick wall of the clubhouse and move my hand to her hip. “I’ll take care of you even if you’re not pregnant. Let me make up for finishing before you did.”

“Better.” Mr. Peanut Gallery draws out the word.

“I want to make you come.” As irritated as I am with Rutherford, he’s helping me push my boundaries.

Her eyes fall shut for a moment before she says, “I need that.”

She needs me to make her come? Is life always this easy for Rutherford?

Wrapping my arms around her, I don’t ever want to let her go. We fit so perfectly. Her hands explore my body and I do the same to her. While my blue balls are threatening too much pressure, this moment can’t be rushed. I don’t want to nut in my pants either.

Slipping my fingers into the waistband of her sweats, I shove them down. Rutherford helps her out of them while I shuck my pants off.

“Oh, you mean…” She pauses.

I almost fall into my old habits, but I catch myself. “I want you to come on my cock.”

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